


(drop everything) meet me in the moonlight

by inlovewithimpossibility



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Havenrock Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:36:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22209535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithimpossibility/pseuds/inlovewithimpossibility
Summary: Oliver is working late one summer's night in the mayoral office when a text from Felicity alerts him that everything is not alright with his beautiful, blonde ex-fiancée partner.(or post-s4, Felicity's trying desperately to deal with the guilt of Havenrock and reaches out to Oliver one night when it's all a little too much.)
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 24
Kudos: 205





	(drop everything) meet me in the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexiaBlackbriar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/gifts).



> this one is wishing the wonderful lexi (@lexiblackbriar) a very happy birthday, a little angst/hurt/comfort for our queen of angst <3
> 
> trigger warnings: panic attacks and symptoms of ptsd, if this is something that may be triggering to you, please DO NOT read <3

The moonlight streams in through the large glass walls of the office, hitting the reflection of the harsh, artificial light within. It’s late and a sole figure sits at the desk, his suit jacket slung over the back of the chair and his shirt sleeves rolled up as he pours over the documents he’s neglected over the past week.

The mayor’s office takes a lot of adjusting for Oliver. The work’s nothing like he’s used to or at all what he expected and it’s taking its toll. He knows he can lead and his ideas will shape the city into one that its citizens are proud to call their home but there’s far more bureaucracy and red tape involved than he’d like. It reminds him of heading up Queen Consolidated, actually. Only this time, he doesn’t have Felicity to drag him along.

It also certainly doesn’t help that Oliver’s the only one in the field for Team Arrow business. Felicity’s on his back about finding new teammates and Thea’s backing her, seeing from the office perspective that he’s struggling to maintain the balance. He’s practically the definition of burning the candle at both ends at the moment.

But he’s surviving, he is balancing it, and that’s all he needs to do until John comes back. Which he’s sure will be soon, no matter what Felicity says.

He can handle this, even if it does find him in the office in the early hours of a hot summer’s night.

The loud ding of his phone going off reverberates around the silent room, startling Oliver after so many hours of complete silence. It lights up where it’s sat on the other side of the desk and Oliver double-takes as the image on the screen calls out to him like a beacon.

He really should change her contact image on his phone, Oliver reminds himself as he stretches to reach for the device. Felicity surely would kill him if she ever realised it’s still one he took last January. Whilst they’ve reached an easier equilibrium devoid of the tension that followed their breakup, Oliver’s still uncertain that Felicity won’t snap again if he pushes too far.

And pushing too far seems to mean mentioned them in a romantic capacity at all. (Even if Oliver is sure he’s caught her gazing at him a few times over the last week).

The thing is, every time he reaches to switch the photo to something more appropriate, he stops himself. The image of her, lying in their bed, staring at the camera ( _him)_ with utter love and devotion in her eyes is his only source of hope at the moment. If he can’t have her look at him like that in reality anymore, in the very least, he can see it on his phone and remember that once she had looked at him in that way.

Plus, it’s a reminder that he lost the right to that look and if he’s going to ever win that right back, he’s got a long way to go.

Oliver blinks as he opens the text, his eyes adjusting to the bright light of his screen after spending so long staring at papers.

_Are you up?_

Oliver frowns at the text.

It’s not uncommon for him to receive messages from Felicity at this hour. Their work in the bunker is practically an all-night job but they’d promised each other the night off and anyway, Felicity is usually far more direct in her texts regarding Arrow business. If she encounters an issue, she’s quick to inform him what it is or at least tell him to come to the bunker.

No, this is definitely something else, but Oliver didn’t think he and Felicity did ‘something else’ anymore.

_Still at the office. U OK?_

He shoots back, watching as she immediately opens it and begins to reply.

_Oh sorry, just ignore me._

_Felicity._

He immediately replies, his alarm bells ringing. It may have been a while but Oliver knows Felicity inside out and she’s only that dismissive about one thing.

Her own feelings.

_Don’t ignore me. What’s wrong?_

Oliver feels himself growing antsy as two minutes pass by excruciating slowly without the three dots to tell him she’s replying. Instead, the ‘READ 02:47’ stares up at him as if mocking him through the screen.

What if she’s hurt? What if she can’t sleep? She needs him but he can’t help her if she won’t tell him what’s wrong.

Huffing out a sigh, he presses the call button at the top of the screen and scrunches his nose as the ringing just continues and continues until finally, the automated voicemail message from her network provider sounds. Hanging up, he drops the phone to his desk with an agitated groan only for it to ding loudly with another text.

_I don’t think I can talk._

That makes Oliver freeze.

There are few times when Felicity doesn’t have anything to say and even less when she doesn’t feel like she can talk. Their activities over the last few years have taken their burden on her just as much as they have on Oliver and he knows immediately what this is.

_Felicity, where are you?_

_Don’t make me track your phone._

He sends the messages in quick succession, before she even has a chance to type out a reply to the first but his heart is beating so quickly as he reaches for his jacket. He keeps his eyes on the three wiggling dots until her reply finally comes through and he lets out a relieved ‘oh, thank God’.

_Rooftop. Campaign office._

_Thank you. Five minutes._

The route over the rooftops from the mayor’s office to the campaign office is one that Oliver knows well and does most days. It’s the quickest way to get from the base of one of his jobs to the other and he recalls how Felicity once referred to it as travelling ‘as the Green Arrow flies’.

He moves quicker than he thinks he ever has before, his foot almost slipping off of two separate buildings in his haste to reach his destination and Felicity. The usually warm summer breeze has a slight bite to it, Oliver notes, just as he leaps over the last gap and lands on top of the old building.

He slows his pace as he makes his way around the stairwell access, hearing the soft sounds of sniffling coming from that direction and he freezes for a moment where he’s stood when the sight of Felicity finally comes into focus.

She’s curled up in the corner of the roof, the raised sides of the edges almost hiding her from view. Her legs are curled up to her chest and her arms are wrapped tightly around them as if she’s desperately trying to close in on herself. Her heels are falling off her feet and she’s dressed in just a thin, strappy dress. Her entire body is shaking and, as Oliver steps closer, he can see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Felicity?”

He’s by her side like a gunshot but he forces himself to keep his voice gentle as he bends down next to her. She doesn’t outwardly register that she’s noticed him at all, her breathing still short and panicked as the tears continue to flow like a river down her cheeks.

Oliver is unfazed, used to her general pattern by now when she’s plagued with panic attacks. What he focuses on is her face as her eyes gently start to relax from their tightly screwed up position. They don’t move far, just a slight fraction but it happens and Oliver knows that’s a good start.

“Felicity, it’s me, it’s Oliver. You’re okay, you’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re okay, I promise.”

He tells her gently, keeping his voice as level as he can. He doesn’t want to startle her but instead of calming her, his words seem to have the opposite effect. She begins to violently shake her head as she tries to scoot back further into the corner and Oliver worries she’s about to bash her head against the concrete.

“Felicity? Hey, can you try and look at me please, sweetheart? It’s okay, you’re safe.” He tries to reassure her again, his hand flying up to take the weight of her head as it veers dangerously near to the wall. The contact makes her gasp and shunt the other way but, whilst it makes his stomach drop to know he’s scared her, he knows it’s worth it to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. “Felicity please, I need you to breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

He hardly recognises his own voice as he pleads with her. It cracks as tears of his own spring to his eyes, the sight of her in such pain cutting through him like a knife. He knows he needs to stay calm if he has even the slightest of chances of calming her down but it’s so hard to see her in such distress and feel so helpless. 

Felicity abruptly gasps in a deep breath, stuttering for a moment before finally managing to choke out two words in a terrified voice. “Not… me…”

Suddenly, everything clicks into place in Oliver’s mind.

It’s hard to know what might have set Felicity’s PTSD off. She’s been through so much in the past year alone and Oliver’s heart wrenches when he thinks of everything he’s dragged her into. How many nights did he spend talking her through horrific nightmares where she’d relived the awful things Darhk did to her that one day in December? The kidnapping from the holiday party, the cell, the _gas chamber,_ the shooting after what was supposed to be the happiest moment of their lives so far… It’s understandably scarred her past explanation but her stunted words clarify that that’s not what has her in this state tonight.

She hasn’t relived what Darhk did to her, but instead what Darhk forced her hand into doing.

Havenrock.

Oliver was, still is, amazed she managed to redirect the nuke so late in its course, avoiding a far greater yield and a far greater death count but he knows Felicity will never be able to concentrate on the hundreds of thousands lives she saved that day.

Not when tens of thousands of people are dead.

She’s a hero but Oliver knows she can’t see it that way. He hopes he might one day be able to convince her.

For now, though, he just needs her to calm slightly so that she can breathe properly.

“Okay, honey, it’s okay. I need you to breathe. In and out, okay? I’m going to count and I need you to breathe with me. Okay, in for one, two, three, four… out for one, two, three.” Oliver talks her through what he knows works with her, feeling the weight on his chest lift as she listens, her breathing turning from the sharp and shallow breathing that had her so panicked into a deep, steady breath. “Good, that’s good, honey. Again.”

He guides her through the process a few times before she starts to breathe at a normal pace on her own. Oliver feels himself relaxing as well as she visibly calms, her tense limbs loosening as she uncurls from herself. 

“Okay, can you try and look at me?” Oliver questions softly, and he smiles when her beautiful eyes finally meet his. They’re still filled with tears but they’re settled on his own and far calmer than they were a few minutes ago. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She replies, her voice shaky and weak on the single syllable. Oliver thinks it’s the most glorious of sounds, however, and he finds himself reaching out to touch her. His hand hovers above the bare skin of Felicity’s arm, searching her eyes for consent or any objection.

Felicity gives the slightest of nods and Oliver almost hisses at how cold her skin is to the touch as he gently places his hand on her arm. She does hiss and Oliver frowns, carefully running his hand up and down her arm to try and warm her slightly but he knows the best course of action is to get her inside and away from the cold.

“You must be freezing.” He approaches lightly. He’s never had the right to demand she do anything, but she’s far less agreeable to his suggestions now than she was a few months ago so Oliver knows he has to tread with caution.

“Can’t really feel much to be honest.” She replies bluntly, although there’s not a lot of bite to it and that’s not only due to the state of her voice and the way she’s still sniffling. Despite that, Oliver feels his stomach drop at the clear sign of her walls flying back up.

“Yeah, that’s not a good sign, hon.” He finds himself replying before he can stop himself, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like second nature. Neither of them had picked up on the ones he’d used earlier, but now with Felicity far more lucid, the single syllable hangs between them heavy like a large weight. Felicity looks at him, her gaze softening slightly as she searches his face. Oliver doesn’t know what she’s looking for but he clears his throat, very conscious of how cold her skin feels beneath his fingers. “Do you… um, do you think you can make it downstairs? We should get you out the cold.”

Felicity’s eyes meet his own and she nods, wriggling for a few moments before she freezes. Oliver winces as she slumps her head back against the concrete behind her, despite her moving slowly. “I can’t feel my legs. Oh, that’s not a fun reminder.” She groans and Oliver frowns, watching as she clearly tries to straighten her limbs out.

Logically, Oliver knows it’s a combination of being in a cramped position in the cold for so long that’s inhibiting Felicity’s movement but it’s another stark reminder of one of the many horrendous things she’s been through this year.

“Do you mind if I carry you? Seriously, you’re dangerously cold.”

He knows his question will be met by resistance, not only because of their change in relationship status. Felicity’s freedom is so wholly important to her and Oliver is very aware of how she felt like it had been stripped from her when she was paralysed. He can see the struggle play across her tear tracked face now and he only hopes she’ll allow him to carry her in, just this once.

He’s pretty damn terrified for her right now.

“Okay.” She finally relents and Oliver feels his heart sink in relief. He doesn’t know what he would have done if she’d refused. Her cold skin penetrates the layers of his suit as he tenderly lifts her into his arms bridal style and he’s gentle but quick as he carries her down the stairwell and into the elevator that leads to the bunker. Oliver doesn’t want to think he’s imagining things but he swears she cuddles closer to him ever so slightly as they enter the warmth of the subbasement that’s currently acting as his apartment.

He carries her over to the cot and places her down gently before reaching for the blanket folded at the end of the bed and gently draping it over her shoulders. He then grabs another from a small trunk on the other side of the room and drapes it over her bare legs. She thanks him softly, her voice still crackly and groggy from the tears, and he waves her off as he moves towards the small kitchenette.

He returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water and a mug of hot tea, telling her to hold it even if she doesn’t drink it to allow it to warm her cold hands. She thanks him again and Oliver shakes his head once more with a small smile, pulling a chair over to sit a few feet from the bed.

He feels his own heart rate start to settle as he watches the colour return to Felicity’s face and her chest begin to rise and fall at a much more normal pace. She doesn’t look at him, her eyes still stare straight ahead, filled with tears beneath the frames of her glasses, but it’s an improvement he’ll gladly take from the state she was in on the roof.

Finally, after what simultaneously feels like seconds and an age, Felicity looks over at him, blinking a few times and taking a deep breath before her lips curve in the slightest of smiles.

Oliver isn’t sure that it isn’t the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

Which is why it hurts so deeply to speak his next words.

“I thought you told me you were avoiding media coverage.” He starts softly, not wanting to diminish the first light he’s seen in her since he got here but also knowing that she needs to talk about it.

Felicity, for her part, breaks their eye contact, looking down at her lap sheepishly. “I was… for a while. But then I just felt like I was avoiding the blame.”

Her voice is quiet, without any of her usual confidence or authority and it almost breaks Oliver to see her so shattered.

“Felicity, what happened that day was not your fault.” He tells her for what feels like the millionth time, just praying that this is the one that gets through to her. To think that she thinks so low of herself when he’s amazed at how intelligent and level headed she managed to be in the face of such danger that day. The disaster at Havenrock is heartbreaking but it’s not on Felicity’s shoulders.

It’s on Darhk’s.

“Tell that to the tens of thousands of people dead. I’m a murderer.” Felicity insists and the way that she keeps her eyeline low, shaking her head vehemently as she swallows thickly has Oliver moving to kneel in front of her without really thinking. He moves the tea from her hands to the floor, the cup is shaking so heavily she’s about to spill it anyway.

Oliver places his hands on her knees over the blanket and Felicity’s gaze snaps to his at the contact, confusion clouding her beautiful blue eyes.

“You’re not a murderer.” Oliver holds, locking his eyes on hers as if he might be able to implore her through his gaze but Felicity just shakes her head, her eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but him.

“How can you even look at me, work with me? I’ve killed more people than Slade Wilson and Damien Darhk. I’m just as bad as they are.”

Oliver feels the brace around his heart tighten with every word that leaves her mouth. It breaks his heart to know that she sees herself like this, to know that she can see herself as anything other than the kind-hearted, loving _hero_ he knows her to be.

It’s that belief in her good-hearted nature that causes him to forget about the tension and the heartbreak of the last few months and reach up, tenderly cupping her cheek and directing her gaze onto his.

She fights him for just a second, too weak to really gain any traction, before sighing and meeting his eyes, the nerves and trepidation as clear in hers as the tears welling up within them.

“Felicity, Slade Wilson would have murdered this entire city and its surrounding area without a shred of remorse if it had given him what he wanted. Darhk set up that missile strike and dozens of others that _you_ managed to stop. He _wanted_ to kill _billions_ of people. So, unless you’ve suddenly had a personality transplant, I can tell you that you are nowhere near the level of Slade and Darhk. You’re not even on the scale.”

Felicity’s eyes widen at his words, filling almost to capacity with tears before they begin to make their way down the soft slopes of her cheeks once more. She looks so small like this, so uncertain and scared of what she believes she’s become. The thing is, it’s her compassion and worry that proves to Oliver she’s nothing but a hero.

“But maybe if I’d tried a bit harder, knew a bit more…” Felicity mumbles, the tears streaming down her face once more and Oliver reaches out to wipe them away just as quickly as they fall.

“Felicity, I know you. I know that you give everything your all, no matter what. We’ve grown and adapted and changed but at your core, you’re still the woman who locked me in the Foundry to stop me from killing Ken Williams. The woman who took a bullet for a trained assassin… You do everything you can to make sure that the least amount of damage possible is done and that’s exactly what you did the day that missile hit Havenrock.” Oliver insists and Felicity’s lips purse as she blinks, clearing trying to stem her tears but failing on all accounts.

“That doesn’t bring back the people all those families are grieving.” She counters, her voice cracking halfway through the sentence and Oliver sighs, nodding his head.

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But that’s not a burden you can shoulder on your own, or should you have to. Their deaths are on Darhk’s shoulders, not yours.”

Something about his words seem to get through to her, but not quite in the way he expected.

He startles slightly as she lurches forward, burrowing her head in his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. He stills in surprise at the thought of how long it’s been since she was this close, her nose nuzzling into his chest, but as her shoulders wrack with a sob, his arms instinctively wind around her back to pull her closer. With her in his arms, Oliver finally lets his own tears fall, sliding down his cheeks and landing gently in Felicity’s hair.

They stay there for what feels like hours to Oliver, but in reality, is only around ten minutes. Oliver strokes his hand over Felicity’s back, ever so slightly rocking her as he whispers words of encouragement like mantras into her silken gold hair. His other arm holds her steady to him, keeping her close and safe as she cries.

It’s a practised routine, one Oliver has done many times before, but it has never felt as novel as it does in this moment. To know that, even after everything they’ve been through and the hurt he’s caused her, she would call him in her moment of need, it’s everything to Oliver.

Finally, her sobs subside and her tight grip loosens, prompting Oliver to loosen his grip too. Felicity pulls back, ducking her head as she wipes her tears and Oliver trails his hand around her shoulder, maintaining contact until the very last moment as she pulls her back to sit properly on the bed.

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from the office. I didn’t know who else to call.” She finally tells him thickly, looking up at him nervously but Oliver just smiles, shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly. I promised you a long time ago that you could always talk to me about your day. No matter what’s happened between us, that offer will always stand.” He reminds her with a determined gaze and he fills with joy when her lips curve up in a small smile of her own.

“Thank you.” She states softly before her mouth opens in a long, involuntary yawn. Her body is clearly catching up with her and Oliver frowns.

“You should stay here, get some sleep.” He offers, gesturing to the cot, but Felicity merely frowns, looking down at the makeshift bed and then back at him.

“I can’t put you out of a bed.” She refuses, despite another long yawn fighting its way out of her throat.

“There’s another cot in the back, I’ll pull in through to the other room.” He explains, watching as Felicity clearly wrestles with the idea for a long moment before she relents with a nod.

Oliver smiles and brushes a gentle hand over her shoulder before standing and making his way over to the back room.

“Oliver?” Her voice stops him just as he reaches the doorway and he turns to see her nervously biting her lip, her fingers fiddling with the blanket. “Could you maybe pull it in here?”

Oliver stills, forcing himself to remember that it’s just because she’s scared and doesn’t want to be alone. Swallowing thickly as he tries not to think about how much he’d love to sleep with her curled protectively in his arms again, he nods and gives her a small smile. “Of course.”

* * *

When Oliver wakes the next morning, his heart purrs contently at the sight of Felicity slumbering peacefully in the cot a few feet away. It’s a sight he’s sorely missed, even if this is nowhere near the situations he’s used to waking up next to her in. The blanket around her rises and falls with each of her deep breaths in and out and the sight calms Oliver. He’s grateful to see her sleeping so peacefully after the turmoil of the early hours.

His phone dings with a text from Thea, alerting him that he needs to head to the office, so he grabs a piece of paper and jots down a note for Felicity. He tells her he’s glad to see her sleeping peacefully, that’s he’s always here for her, and a reminder to eat and drink something before she gets into her hacking for the day.

As he lays the paper down on the pillow next to her head, he can’t resist the urge to gently brush her blonde curls back from her face and press a single, lingering kiss to her forehead.

She groans and turns in her sleep but luckily doesn’t wake and Oliver smiles, collecting his clothes to go change suits.

Just as he reaches the doorway, he swears he hears Felicity groan something that sounds an awful lot like his name in her sleep and tries to stem the way his heart leaps with hope at the thought.

 _Time,_ he reminds himself. _Time is what they both need right now._


End file.
